Jolly Rogers Academy for Boys
by Avila Naislin
Summary: After being sent to live with her father, Ollie's luck only gets worse when she finds out she has to go to the prestigious boarding school, J. Rogers Academy. But as she starts to move in, she notices something very odd... she's the only girl. Now, stuck in an all boys boarding school, Ollie has to learn to live with her roommate Peter, his rowdy gang. Based loosely on Peter Pan .
1. Welcome to J Rogers

Ollie leaned her head against the window, letting it hit the glass with a dull thunk. Grey rain drizzled down, blurring the passing streets so the only thing she could see were peoples black umbrellas. She watched London pass as she sat in the back of the town car her father sent. The weather here seemed to exactly match how she felt about the entire situation: depressing. The only sound was the patter of rain on the car, and the jazz coming from the radio. The man driving kept stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror, but never tried to talk. And that was just fine with her.

They passed a large sign that read, _Welcome to Sevenoaks, Kent_. The little brown houses on the outskirts of London turned into huge white houses and just like that, the bleak grey city streets turned into rolling green pastures topped with manors. Sooner than she'd like she was standing at the front doors of a house nothing short of a mansion, luggage in hand. She stared at the massive wooden doors, debating if she walked away now, whether anyone would be able to catch her.

The right door opened, and a thin man with a lot of white hair stood smiling at her. His crystal blue eyes looked at her excitedly. Ollie raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Ms. Fernsby?" he asked.

"Dad?"

"Heavens, no." the man grinned. "I'm his assistant, Charles. Please come in."

Charles stepped aside, allowing Ollie to walk into the foyer. She titled her head back, to see the full expanse of the house. The entrance was marbled with white floors and tall columns that stretched to the top of a golden ceiling.

"Your room will be upstairs on the second floor," said Charles. "Please follow me."

He started up the large staircase that wound upwards to two other floors. Ollie quickly grabbed her bags and followed, heaving them up the stairs. The only sound in the house was her and Charles' footsteps. No other voices or music could be heard.

They reached a room on the second floor, whose door was the only one ajar. Ollie pushed it open slowly and looked in.

It was very simple. A small bed with a white cover sat near a window with fluttering white curtains. The walls were covered in yellow flowered paper that reminded her of a nursery. A wooden dresser sat across from the bed, where a little box with a ribbon laid.

Ollie set her bags down and walked over to the dresser, and looked down at the box.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It's from your father." Charles said. "He told me to tell you he's sorry for being unable to pick you up from the airport, but had an important business engagement."

Ollie reached out to open it, but paused as she touched the blue ribbon.

"When will he be back?" she asked.

"This evening, for supper."

She nodded, and dropped her hand. Charles watched her curiously.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, thanks. I'm just going to start unpacking."

He nodded and left. Ollie walked to the bed and fell into it, letting her legs dangle over the edge. She stared at the ceiling, finding shapes in the bumps of plaster.

So, this was going to be home. No more warm Louisiana afternoons or bright colors of the French Quarter; just quiet rooms and rain.

She sat lying on the bed as the sunlight started to dim, and the rain stopped. She didn't bother moving until the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the drive broke the stillness. She jumped up, her heart hammering somewhere in her throat, and looked out the window. A black car had parked by the front doors. A tall man in a black suit stepped out from the back, and walked towards the house. Another man came hurrying out of the car, carrying papers and looking flustered.

Ollie pushed herself away from the window and rushed down the hall, to the banister of the stairs and leaned over the railing. The two men were in the entrance now, oblivious to her watching. The man in the suit pulled a pen from his jacket and began signing the papers. The other man spotted Ollie and stared with an odd expression. He mumbled something to the first, whose head snapped up to the stairs.

A small smile creased his face, and beckoned Ollie with a finger, his dark eyes glued to her as she came down the stairs. She felt like her mouth was full of sand. The closer she got to this man, the worse it got. Ollie hit the bottom of the stairs and stood still, feeling like if she got any closer, she would stop breathing. He had her nose, or she had his – and his hair, which was cut so short you could barely see the curls like the ones that bounced around Ollie's face.

"Mr. Stone, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Oliver." Said the man in the suit.

The man standing next to her father straightened up and gave her a half smile. Her dad tucked his pen away, and walked towards her and pulled her into a hug. She went rigid, unsure if she was supposed to hug him back.

"It's nice to finally meet you." He said softly.

"You too," she said.

He quickly pulled away, placing a hand on her shoulder, and nodded his head. "Time for supper. Mr. Stone," he said, addressing to the man still holding the stack of papers, "please join us."

Mr. Stone bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord."

.

Ollie stared down at her plate, trying not to make a disgusted face, even though every fiber in her being wanted to chuck the whole meal across the room. Her dad and Mr. Stone were on the other side of (in her opinion) an unnecessarily long table that could fit 20 people comfortable.

"Not hungry?"

Ollie looked up to see Charles leaning over her with a grin.

"Oh, uh… no, I am…"

"You just don't want _this_."

She looked back at her plate, where an entire bird was sitting on her plate, its dead eyes staring up at her. It still had its tiny feet, which were curled under it like it was sleeping.

"It's watching me."

He chuckled. "Cornish game hen is your father's favorite dish."

"I'm sure it's fine, but why do they have to leave the head on?"

"Is there a problem?"

Charles and Ollie looked up to see her dad watching them. Charles quickly poured more water into her cup and walked away. Ollie smiled and shook her head.

"No, sir."

She picked up a fork and pretended to start cutting it up. He turned back to Mr. Stone. Ollie quickly put the fork back down and slumped in her seat, ignoring how badly her stomach was growling. Charles meandered back over, and put a clean dish on the table, quickly taking the one in front of her away. He winked and went back to the kitchen. Saved by the butler.

"Oliver, how was your flight?"

Her dad was looking at her now. Whatever work he'd been doing with Mr. Stone must have finished, because now he was watching her with full attention.

"Long," she said.

He started cutting his hen, staring at her as if expecting more. Ollie bit her lip, trying to think of something to say.

"So, you're a banker?"

He nodded, but didn't stop eating.

"Cool." She drummed her hands against the table, feeling doubly awkward that Mr. Stone was watching. "This is a nice house."

"It's been in the Fernsby lineage for over 300 years."

"Neat." He continued eating. "So… school here ends at 16, right? Does that mean I can start going to college?"

Her dad put down his fork and smiled. "You'll go to finishing school before University, but I'm glad you've brought it up. I've enrolled you in my alma mater, not far from Sevenoaks. I think you'll enjoy it."

"'Finishing school'?"

"J. Rogers Academy. It's an excellent facility."

"For how long?"

"Until you are 18."

Ollie widened her eyes in disbelief. She was a year from graduating high school at home thanks to skipping a year when she was 7. Now she had _another_ _two years _of school?

"You know, in the states I could have graduated next year."

"But you live in a proper country now, and you'll be at the Academy until you are 18." He took his napkin off his lap and placed it on the table as he stood up.

Charles stood behind him, with a glass of scotch on a small platter. Her dad took it and walked out of the dining room, with Mr. Stone in toe. Charles looked over to Ollie who was sitting with a disgusted look.

"I'm sorry, love."

"Was he for real?"

"Afraid so. Your uniform came this afternoon."

"Uniforms? Great." She slumped back in her chair. "Does he always get up in the middle of conversation and walk away?"

"Only if he doesn't want to keep talking." Charles said with a grin. "Come meet me in your room, I have something for you."

He left. Ollie pushed herself up and trudged out of the dining room and upstairs. Charles was already waiting in her room with a stack of boxes in hand. He set them on her bed as she entered.

"Go on, open them." He said.

Ollie slid the top off the first box and pulled out a brown material. "It's… a sweater."

"It's part of your uniform." Said Charles.

And sure enough, Ollie noticed a small emblem of a crest crossed by two swords on the left breast. She looked back in the box where more shirts were folded, all in brown or dark green colors.

"Brown and green, huh?"

"It's the school colors."

"Of course it is." Ollie folded the sweater and put it back in the box. "I can't believe I've got another two years of school."

"It will fly by. Before you know it, you'll be back for Christmas holiday and-"

"Wait, time out. What do you mean, I'll 'be back'? Where am I going?"

Charles started at her with confusion. "To school. J. Roger's is a boarding school."

"WHAT! Is there some kind of appeal process?"

This was unbelievable. Just unbelievable! The first conversation she'd ever had with her dad, and he tells her he is sending her away. Why couldn't he have let the judge allow her to live with her aunt? Ollie fell onto her bed, shaking her head.

"Cheer up, love. You'll like it sure enough."

"Says you."

"That's right, says I. Your father means well,"

"He has a funny way of showing it."

"Well, he's a Duke; you can't expect rainbows and picnics. I suggest you pack up your uniform, we have an early rise."

Ollie sat up. "Why? What are we doing?"

"Going to drop you off."

"At the school! No way, it's only August!"

Yes way. And at 9 in the morning Ollie was stepping out of the car with her bags, staring up at the massive estate that was J. Roger's Academy. The car drove off, leaving her to lug all her things up the long stairway.

She started heaving them up, muttering to herself angrily as she went. "Nine in the morning… unbelievable… barely even got in this country and he's sending me out again…. Ridiculous…"

She reached the large doors, where the same crest on her sweater was engraved into the wood. Blown up 100 times the size, she could see the details in the crest she couldn't before. On the emblem was a ship, with its sails out as it sailed on what looked like clouds. The two swords that crossed over the emblem had decorated handles that looked eerily like bones.

"I'll never understand British taste," Ollie mumbled, and pushed a door open.

The Main Hall was cool and dark. All the walls and floors were wooden; the little lighting there was came from torches that hung throughout the room, so their flickering light made the room almost feel like it was swaying.

"May I help you?"

Ollie jumped and turned around to see a fat little man watching her above his round glasses. He had rosy cheeks, and beady little eyes that reminded her of a bug. His grey hair was almost hidden underneath a blue knit cap that fell to one side.

"I need to find the dorms."

"Name?" He said, cocking his head to one side.

"Ollie Fernsby."

He looked at a clipboard in his hand and went down a list with his finger. "Mr. Fernsby's room is up the stairs, on the third floor, east wing, room 307."

Ollie opened her mouth to correct him, but decided she didn't want to know why he thought she was a man. "Er…thanks,"

She picked up her bags and began walking towards the massive staircase that was lined with plush red carpeting. Two floors later, she was heaving for breath.

The rest of the building, thankfully, wasn't covered in wood like some archaic ship. It was considerably modern, with beige walls, and modern art hanging between the doors. She dragged her things down the hall, until she reached room 307 where two plaques were hanging under the number:

Fernsby

Pancaire

_That must be my roommate_. She thought, pulling the key out of her pocket and unlocking the door.

The dorm was much bigger than she'd expected. To the right were two beds, each with their own night stand, and dresser. On the left side of the room there was a little red sofa that faced a ruddy bookshelf. Directly across from the door was a large window that overlooked the school grounds. Ollie dumped her bags and walked to the window.

Not bad. Not bad at all. It was better than the room at her dad's house, and it wasn't covered in flowery wallpaper. A few people were walking around the grounds below, saying goodbye to their parents and greeting their friends. She noticed bitterly that most had people _helping_ them with their luggage. Several guys below were already in their uniforms. She had to admit, the uniforms seemed to fit the guys much better than they did on her.

She walked back to her bed and unzipped the nearest suitcase. Her eyes widened as she opened it. On the top was a little pink basket wrapped it pink cellophane. She pulled it out and unwrapped it. Inside were bottles and bottles of soaps, bath salts, perfumes, all in bright colors. A little note stuck out from behind a loofa with her name written in a neat cursive. She picked it up and flipped it open.

_Oliver, here is a little gift to make your stay more enjoyable. Don't be afraid to be let your feminine side out._

- _Charles _

Ollie grinned, as she looked back at the basket. "Charles, you're amazing." She grabbed a large ruby bottle called _Cotton Candy_, and walked over to the only other door in the room at the back. She pushed it open, flicked on the light and her smile spread ear to ear.

The bathroom was tiled floor to ceiling in elegant pebbles so it looked like little grotto. The tub was almost as deep as it was long. Ollie leaned over the edge and whistled.

"Oh, hell yes." She said.

She turned on the faucet and let the steaming water fill the tub. She unstopped the bottle and poured the soap in the water. It immediately began to bubble in iridescent colors of gold and purple. She turned back to the two sinks, where a long mirror stretched above them, high enough so that she just barely could look into it. Clearly it was designed for people taller than 5'4". She smiled at her reflection, making her amber eyes crinkle. Her wavy hair was the same chestnut color as her dad's, and it fell in loose curls down her back. Besides her dad's hair and little nose, Ollie looked just like her mom who was petite in every way.

Ollie glanced at the bath tub, which was almost full now, and 4 inches high with bubbles. She quickly grabbed a towel from her suitcase, and closed the door behind her. She dipped a toe in the water, and happily stepped in the rest of the way, letting the mountain of bubbles envelope her.

It was like floating in clouds. The room filled with the smell of sweet sugar and fruit. She lifted her hand above the bubbles, examining the trail of purple color they left on her skin. Ollie sighed, and dunked her head under.

The sound of a shutting door shook the water. Ollie popped her head back up, as she listened to the faint sound of voices from the other room. There were several more thuds, as her roommate probably put down her suitcases.

"I think you've been paired with the new student. I dunno anyone called Fernsby."

"That's too bad. I was hoping Allen would transfer over."

Ollie's jaw had dropped. Those were definitely _not_ girl's voices. _What were boys doing in her room!_

She scrambled out of the tub, leaving a trail of bubbles as she made a dash to lock the bathroom door. She leaned against the wall, and sighed. Her mind was racing. Had she accidentally gone into the wrong room? Was there another Oliver Fernsby, and she was in his room? Ollie grabbed the towel and quickly patted herself down, cursing herself for not bring a change of clothes.

She tied it around her, and pressed an ear against the door. Maybe if she waited, they would leave. Then she could go get clothes, and be able to figure out why they were there. Simple. No need to panic.

"Mate, look at this."

"What's _that_?"

"I think your roommates a puff!"

They started laughing. "Would you look at these? Who where's pants like this?"

"Is that a bra?"

_Oh my god! _Ollie thought. _They're going through my things!_

Before she knew what she was doing, Ollie unlocked the bathroom door and marched out to find two guys standing over her open suitcase. One was holding up her panties with a disgusted look, the other holding her bra against his chest.

"What are you doing!" She gasped.

They jumped and immediately dropped her things. She snatched them up and stuffed them back into her suitcase. And then the reality of what she'd just done hit her. She slowly looked up, uncomfortably aware she was soaking wet and in a towel, as her face turned beet red. The guys were looking at her in completely surprise. The taller of the two was gaping at her as if he'd been less surprised if a man-eating leprechaun had come running out of the bathroom. The other, black-haired one just started laughing.

"Who sent you?" he asked. "Are you one of Madison's friends?"

Ollie shook her head, feeling too embarrassed to care to know what he meant.

"Why would they send _this_?" said the tall one, pointing to Ollie.

"'_This'_?" Ollie said in disgust. "'This' wants to know why you're going through her things, _and_ what you're doing in her room!"

"My god, she's American!"

"We could ask you the same question, sweetie." Said the taller one. "Did you get lost? You know the girl's school is on the other side of town."

"No, I'm not lost." Ollie snapped, but secretly hoping the driver didn't drop her off at the wrong place as a practical joke.

"So you know you're at J. Rogers, not Lagoon Prep?"

Ollie raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what their point was. So, if this was J. Rogers, than the only issue was why they were in her room.

"Look, clearly there was a mistake, but I'm not living with a guy, so if you can just take you things, and find somewhere else –"

Both of them raised their eyebrows and burst into laughter. Ollie crossed her arms and frowned.

"Are you sure you know where you are?" asked the taller one.

"_Yes_," she snapped.

"I don't think you do. You're in the wrong place if you don't have something hanging between your legs. And…" he looked her up and down with a grin. "-judging by what I see, I don't think that's the case."

Ollie's face grew hotter, but she ignored it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The one with black hair grabbed the welcome letter off her bed and thrust it into her hands. She glowered at him, and tried giving it back.

"Read the envelope."

"I know where I am."

"Just read it."

Ollie looked down at the envelope where the same crest as her uniform was stamped in the corner. Underneath it read:

_Welcome Brief_

_Jolly Rogers Academy for Boys_

Her jaw dropped. The two guys doubled over, roaring with laughter as she tore open the seal and pulled out the papers inside. She began reading quickly, as her heart hammered a million times faster than it's supposed to.

_Dear Mr. Oliver Fernsby,_

_We, at J. Rogers Academy for Boys are thrilled to have you join our school for your junior year…_

Ollie stopped reading and looked up in horror. The guys were watching her with giant grins.

"They… think I'm a guy." She said barely above a whisper. "My father enrolled me in the WRONG SCHOOL!"

The burst into laughter again. The taller one ripped the letter out of her hands and read it aloud.

"'Mr. Oliver Fernsby'? Well, there's your problem, you've a man's name!"

"It's our family name!" Ollie snapped, snatching the letter back, but he was right. Her name got her enrolled into the wrong school.

How could this have happened? Was her father that desperate to have a son, or that oblivious that he signed her up to the wrong school? How could he have not known!

Well, she wasn't about to stand for this. She grabbed a dress and ran into the bathroom, changed quickly, and came marching back out.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"To find a way out!"

She slammed the door behind her as the boys erupted in laughter again.

.

.

**Author Note: Thank you for reading, and please share how you feel by posting a lovely comment. Also, don't be afraid to check out my Facebook at Avila Naislin. **

10


	2. Initiation

Ollie hurried down the stairs to the first floor, ignoring the fact that she was leaving a trail of water behind her. The hallways were much busier than when she'd arrived. Guys and their families were crowding the corridors, saying goodbye, helping them bring up their suitcases. And every single person stared at her with wide eyes as she walked by. She kept her head low, determined to pretend no one was watching her.

She reached the first floor, and looked around for the fat man who'd told her where to go that morning. But she only saw boys and their parents.

"Hey, do you know where the Dean of Admissions office is?" she asked a ginger standing nearby.

He jumped and stared at her like she was a ghost. "Over there," he said, pointing behind her.

"Thanks," she said, and hurried over.

The door he'd pointed to almost blended into the wooden slated walls surrounding it. A small golden plaque was bolted on it that simply read, _Mr. Smee_. She knocked on the door and pushed it open.

The room was stacked with papers, covering the chairs, desk, and any other surface. She walked in slowly, trying not to step on anything as she peaked over the mound of papers on the desk.

"Uh, hello?"

The man behind it looked up over his glasses, and raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

"Are you Smee?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you about my room … actually about this whole school."

"All room assignments are final." He went back to the paper he was writing.

"Yeah, but I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

Smee looked up, staring at her curiously, then suddenly widened his eyes as if he saw her for the first time. "What do you want?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

"Clearly not, girl. This is a boy's school."

"But I'm enrolled here."

"Impossible."

"But I am. I was dropped off this morning."

"This is a boy's school."

"I _know_!" said Ollie, feeling frustrated. "That's why I don't think I'm supposed to be here. My dad's driver dropped me off this morning and –"

"Name?"

"– I … oh, Oliver Fernsby."

"Yes, I told you. Your brother is in 307 on the third floor."

"No, I don't have a brother, _I'm _Oliver Fernsby."

Smee started mumbling and filing through papers. He pulled out a thin file from under a stack of papers, and started looking through it. As he read, his eyes grew wider.

"I see… your documents do state you are female… "

Ollie rolled her eyes. What a detail to overlook. "Okay. Now what?"

"Let me call our headmaster, and your father. Please wait outside."

Smee stood up and waved her toward the door. Ollie walked out, shutting the door behind her. She slumped against the wall, and began wringing her hair out, giving dirty looks to anyone who stared.

The ginger she'd talked to was standing with his parents now, and gawking at her with large eyes. He was very thin, and covered head to toe in freckles. His parents were oblivious to what he was so distracted by. Ollie wished they'd realize it, and drag him away like all the other parents here.

She slumped to the floor, still wringing out her hair as the parents began to file out. Eventually, she was the only one left, with just the sound of a nearby clock ticking. Five minutes… ten… twenty. Ollie sighed and leaned her head against the wall, feeling like the seconds hand was gradually getting slower. The office door opened and Smee walked out. She scrambled to her feet, heart beating quickly with anticipation.

"I've spoken with the Headmaster and your father and they are in agreement. They believe it's better if you stay here."

"What!" Ollie gasped. "But I don't belong here!"

"Your father has already paid your tuition in full for the remainder of your education, and refuses a refund. He insisted you stay here."

Ollie shook her head in disbelief. Her dad didn't want her back, was the real reason. He shipped her off, and wasn't going to have any reason to have her move back in.

"Do I at least get another room?"

"We're at full capacity." Said Smee. "So, no. But like I said before, all room assignments are final."

.

Ollie slowly walked back up the stairs, nonplus and confused. What was _wrong_ with this country? She glared at the elaborated portraits of previous headmasters as she walked. All of them were dressed in bejeweled outfits, large hats with a white feather sticking out, and the J. Rogers sword on the belt. She hated everything about them, down to their damn pencil mustaches. She reached the dormitories and groaned as she pushed her door open.

"She returns!"

Ollie looked around and her jaw dropped. In just the half an hour she was gone, the room went from a plain, little dorm to a luxury suite. There was now a large leather couch that faced a tall entertainment center, where a flat screen TV and several game systems sat. The red sofa had been pushed into a corner to make room for a massive beanbag, and recliner. Posters of soccer teams, and women in bathing suits were plastered on the walls. The other bed was covered in a plush emerald green comforter, and black pillows, rather than the thin white one Ollie still had on her bed.

"How?" was all Ollie could say. "I was only gone for 30 minutes."

"Fairy dust." Said the tall guy. "So you're leaving then?"

"No," she groaned. "They won't let me."

"What d'you mean they won't let you!" she the other guy. "This is a boy's school!"

"I know! That's what I kept saying, but my dad's already paid for the next two years and won't take the money back." She fell face first into her bed.

"Tough luck." The taller guy sat next to her and patted the back of her head. "Well, Mr. Fernsby, it's a dog eat dog world, and it just doesn't seem like you're really wanted anywhere."

Ollie looked up and glowered. "Please tell me _you're _not my roommate."

He winked and nodded. "Just call me Peter."

"I'm Ralph!" said the black haired one from the couch, raising a hand and waiving.

"You might as well count him as the third flat mate, he'll always be here." Said Peter.

"Oh really. I'm guessing I don't have a choice in that, do I?"

"No." they said together.

"Cute."

Peter got off her bed and jumped over the back of the couch to join Ralph, who'd turned the TV to a rugby match. Ollie stared at them, wondering if she'd just been guaranteed to be the third wheel for the rest of the year.

"Hey," called Peter. "Don't be a recluse. I'm not living with a girl and an awkward prat. So pick one, you can't be both."

Ollie smiled and walked over to the recliner and sat down. She immediately sunk into the cushions.

"Olive, do you watch football?" asked Peter.

Ollie shook her head. "No, and actually, I prefer to go by Ollie –"

"What about Rugby?"

She shook her head again.

"Cricket?"

"No."

"Hopeless," Peter sighed, shaking his head.

"We could only expect as much from an American." Ralph sighed.

"I do like tea." Ollie said.

They stared at her with an exasperated look and shook their heads.

"You're going to have to at least pick a football team." Peter said. He pointed to the wall behind his bed, where a large poster hung. A group of men were standing on a field, each holding a soccer ball and smiling. "I suggest Manchester United. The Englishman's team."

Ralph laughed. "If you like a team filled with tossers, maybe. You want to go for Chelsea."

"Why would I root for a team with a girl's name?"

Peter roared with laughter. "That a girl, Olive! Manchester it is."

Ralph grumbled and turned back to the TV. Peter winked at Ollie and went back to watching too. Ollie couldn't help but smile as she started watching. So, maybe her dad didn't want her, and she had to live with guys, but at least Peter and Ralph didn't seem too bad. At least they didn't seem to mind she was living there, and that was more than she could say about her own dad.

She sat quietly and watched the rest of the rugby match with them. Peter and Ralph yelled at the screen pretty frequently (Ralph at one point threw a pillow at the screen when the other team scored) but neither bothered explaining to Ollie how the game worked.

When it finally ended, Ralph shook his head in disgust and stood up. "Unbelievable. Where do they find these refs?"

Peter stood up to, and Ollie realized for the first time, how tall the both of them were. Peter stood a good head taller than Ralph, but looked even more so with all his auburn hair that stuck up in every direction.

"See you in a bit." Ralph said, and he walked out.

"He's coming back so soon?" Ollie laughed.

Peter shook his head as he stretched his arms, and yawned. "No, we're going to warm up before practice."

"Practice for – _what the HELL are you doing_!?"

Peter had taken off his shirt and had started undoing his pants, revealing a very chiseled stomach. He looked down at Ollie with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm changing, what does it look like?"

"A little warning, please!" Ollie said, covering her eyes. She could feel her cheeks getting hot as she tried pushing the image of him out of her mind. "Can't you do that in the bathroom?"

"Why?"

"You know exactly why."

"I live here too."

Ollie groaned as she could hear him unzip his pants. "Okay, I'll go."

She quickly got up and rushed to the bathroom, locking herself in. She could hear Peter laughing. She was ready to take everything she'd just thought. Living with a guy was _not_ going to be as great as she thought.

.

She waited until she heard the door close before she cracked the bathroom door to see if the coast was clear. The bedroom was empty. Ollie sighed with relief, and walked out. The TV was still on, now playing replays of the rugby match. She walked to her suitcase, flipping the one she'd started unpacking open. It was nothing but a sea of brown and green.

"These are the worst school colors." Ollie said, as she stuffed the sweaters into her dresser.

After she emptied two suitcases filled with pants, button downs, and gym outfits (now understanding why all the shirts were wide in the shoulders, and the buttons buttoned on the other side) she zipped open the last bag, with all her personal clothes. It was a relief in color. She smiled, as she began pulling out all the pinks, purples, and yellows.

"God bless color." She thought, as she put them in her dresser.

She put away the last of her clothes, and went to the suitcase to zip it up and put it away, when she spotted the little box that had been on her dresser back at her dad's house. It was still neatly tied with the little blue ribbon. She took it out and stared at it.

"Charles," she said, shaking her head.

Ollie pulled the ribbon, and slowly lifted the lid. Inside, sitting on a black velvet cushion, was an oval locket, with tiny diamonds inlaid around a large emerald heart at the center. Ollie pulled out the locket, and pushed a button on its side that unlocked it. She carefully opened it, and found herself staring at a picture of herself.

The picture that was put inside was of her mother and her when she was about two years old. Her mom was smiling, and holding Ollie in one arm. Ollie's eyes started to water. This was the mom she missed, with all her hair and a full, warm smile. She quickly clicked the locket shut, as she tried holding in tears. She put the long gold chain around her neck, and tucked the locket under her shirt. She took in a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

And just that quickly, she could practically feel the light drizzle of Louisiana rain on her cheeks as she watched the coffin lowered in the ground; the preacher droning on, "Susan was a good woman, a good mother, and dedicated to the church. We pray that our Lord takes care of her," and her family around her crying while they threw flowers into the dark hole.

Ollie opened her eyes, and took in a deep breath. She grabbed her suitcases, zipped them up and stuffed them under her bed. _Don't think about it_, she told herself. _Shake it off._ She looked around the room, which was completely dominated by Peter's stuff, trying to think of what to do with herself. She still had two days until the school year started. She walked over to the couch, and grabbed the remote. She started flipping through the channels, as show after show she's never heard of flashed by. She stopped on a station called "Dave", where a show about cars was on. She leaned into the cushions of the couch, and pulled a pillow into her lap, as a fat man on the TV started doing wheelies on a test track.

"…See the trees smile at me as I waft by, and watch the children run into the road because they haven't heard me coming. Actually I'm being unfair. The Prius is so slow the child could run into the road, get his ball, and hit puberty before you ever actually hit him."

The show faded out and commercials started playing. "The 'Top Gear' marathon is sponsored by McVeaties, only on Dave."

_Marathon?_ _Now that's what I'm talking about. _Ollie grinned and sank into the cushions a little deeper with a sigh. Four hours later, she could safely say she knew more about cars than she ever needed to. The Porche Carrera GT is safe and civilized, the Concorde is flawed and skittish, the steering wheel in the Lamborghini Gallardo is covered in a bath mat and the accelerator on the Prodrive P2 sounds like squirrels are being pushed into the engine. She was debating if she should go try to find the dining hall as another episode started when the bedroom door burst open. Ollie screamed and spun around to see a guy with spikey stop-sign red hair standing in the doorway with a huge grin.

"Say it isn't so!" he gasped. "I thought they were lying but here you are!"

"Who?" was all Ollie could get out. Her heart was still racing a mile a minute.

Several other faces suddenly appeared in the doorway, necks craning to look into the room. Ollie picked up a pillow and covered herself with it, feeling uncomfortable with so many people watching her. _Who the heck were these people!_

"Budge up! C'mon, move over."

The guys hurried into the room. Peter walked in at the end, shirt over his shoulder. He threw his sweaty shirt on his bed, and nodded at Ollie. "Top Gear, eh? Nice choice."

"What's your name sweetheart?" asked the guy with red hair, leaning over the couch to get a better look at her.

"Ollie."

"What are you doing in here?"

Ollie looked around the room with wide eyes, at Ralph and the three other guys that were staring at her with massive grins.

"I… live here."

The guys roared, throwing their hands up in disbelief. One of them thumped Peter on the back, shaking his head and laughing.

"I told you I wasn't lying!" yelled Ralph. The guys all started taking their wallets out and handing five pound notes to him.

Peter had put on a clean shirt and sat next to Ollie on the couch. He took the remote and changed it to a soccer game.

"You bet on me?" Ollie said with disgust.

"Of course." Said Ralph, as he pocketed the money. "A girl's never attended JRA. They never would have believed me."

The guy with red hair jumped over the back of the couch and landed on the other side of Ollie, sitting _way_ too close for her liking. He was beaming at her. She smiled nervously, and turned to the TV, uncomfortably aware that everyone but Peter was staring at her.

"That's the last time I take that bet." Said a guy with dark skin and short black hair.

"Damn right." Ralph said. "This is the beginning of a new era, boys. Soon, there will be a girl to every guy, and we'll have breakfast in bed, and no homework –"

"Shut up, Ralph," said Peter.

"I'm just saying, is all."

The guys all moved to sit around the TV, as the second half of the soccer game started. Ralph took the last spot on the couch, one with blonde hair jumped onto the beanbag, and the last one took the recliner.

"Olive, these are my mates, Eliot," he pointed the blond guy laying in the beanbag, "Jasper," he pointed to the guy in the recliner, "and Quinn."

Quinn leaned in a little closer when Peter said his name, saying, "It's my pleasure."

"Quinn, back off, you're being a creep." Said Jasper.

"Seriously, Quinn." Eliot agreed.

"I'm just showing Fernsby some hospitality." He snapped.

"Appreciated," Ollie said. "But seriously, you could scoot a few inches over."

Quinn frowned and moved over, as the guys roared with laughter. Jasper leaned forward to see Ollie around Peter and Ralph.

"So, what classes are you taking?"

Ollie shrugged. "I don't know. No one's told me."

"It should be in your welcome letter." Said Peter.

Quinn jumped up and grabbed the letter off Ollie's bed and tossed it to her. She flipped it open and skimmed through it. Sure enough, at the bottom was a list of classes that her father had selected for her.

"It says, my classes Monday, Wednesday and Friday are English Lit, Calculus, Chemistry, and Physical Education. And on Tuesdays and Thursdays it's History, French, and…_hunting?!"_

Ralph looked over and skimmed the paper. "You're in most of my classes."

"Hunting?" Ollie said again. "How is that even a class!"

"Why wouldn't it be?" said Eliot. "It's my favorite class. And at the end of each semester we go on a hunting trip up in Wales. I love hunting. This one time I shot a quail without looking, and this other time I shot this rabbit…"

Ollie shook her head in disgust. "Unbelievable."

"Your father really wanted a son, didn't he?" asked Peter, looking down at the letter too.

"He wanted a lot of things," she said, throwing the schedule over her shoulder.

"…possum, and foxes, and one time I even took down a stag."

"Eliot you never took down a stag!" said Jasper. "It was sheep."

"It was vicious."

"What are you talking about? It was ancient! It practically had a heart attack when it saw you."

"The bloody thing charged at me!"

"Eliot, we all know that sheep didn't charge at you." Said Ralph. "You went running into that pasture like you were leading an army."

Everyone started laughing. Eliot jumped off the bean bag, and put his hands on his hips.

"Laugh now. But one of these days I'm going to go Napoleon on your ass."

"You've definitely got the height for that." Laughed Quinn.

"What does that even mean?" said Peter.

"He's going to invade you in the winter and almost freeze to death." Said Ollie with a grin.

"OOOOH!" yelled Ralph. "An American knows history!"

He leaned over Peter and high fived her. Jasper pulled Eliot back down on the bean bag, saying "Settle down Napoleon."

"Shhhh!" said Peter, suddenly standing up. He was looking around as if trying to hear something. The guys immediately quieted as he tilted his head back and forth, eyes roaming around. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" said Ollie. Besides the TV, there was no other sound.

"You mean you don't hear that?" he said.

"No."

"Ralph, do you hear it?"

"Sure do, Peter."

"What about you Quinn?"

"Oh, definitely."

"I thought so."

"Hear what?" Ollie asked.

"It sounds like… like…someone…who hasn't been through the JRA initiation." Peter looked down at her with an evil smirk.

Ollie's eyes widened when she realized all the guys were staring at her now with the same look. "Wait a minute." She said quickly, raising her hands up as they started to walk towards her. "What are you doing?"

"We'll give you a 5 second head start." Said Peter. "Since we're classy."

"A 5 second head start for what?"

"Five,"

"Wait! Wait!"

"Four,"

"What happens if you catch me?"

"Three,"

"You better start running." Said Ralph, who'd pulled out a sack of flour from god knows where.

"Two,"

Ollie jumped to her feet and ran out the door. She sprinted down the corridor, looking around for somewhere to hide.

"CHARGE!"

She looked behind her to see all five guys running out of the room, each with a sack of flour in their hands. Ollie skid around a corner and ran head first into someone. She tumbled to the floor, and pushed herself up in time to see a wall of guys in the same jersey's the boys in the dorm were wearing, all with fists full of flour. The guys behind her came running to a finish the circle around her. Peter dipped his hand in his bag of flour, and brought it up with a heaping handful.

"Welcome to Jolly Rogers." He said, grinning ear to ear. "Shall we boys?"

Everyone raised their hands up. Ollie closed her eyes and covered her face as Peter yelled, "Bombs away!"

.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't be afraid to leave a lovely comment. :)**


	3. Sunday Funday

The water looked like cloudy sludge. Ollie tucked her legs up to her chest as she sat in the bathtub for the second time today. She didn't bother trying to wash off the flour. She just let it gradually float away, until the entire surface of water was dissipating flour.

"C'mon, Fernsby!" said Ralph from the other side of the bathroom door. "It was just a bit of fun, no harm done."

Ralph had been trying to coax Ollie out of the bathroom ever since she'd locked herself in. She'd managed to hold back the tears until she slammed the door behind her, but she knew they were shocked she hadn't laughed off the flour-attack.

"You'll miss supper if you don't come out."

"I don't care."

"Don't be like that." Eliot chimed in. "Supper on the first night back is always the best. You don't want to miss it."

"Leave her." Said Peter. "She doesn't want to come, and we'll miss out if we don't hurry."

"C'mon Ollie." Ralph moaned into the door. "We didn't mean anything by it."

Ollie sunk lower into the water, feeling her heart sink with her. The guys must have given up and followed Peter. The bedroom door closed, and Ollie couldn't hear anyone else. She closed her eyes and slipped completely under the water.

If she could have grown gills and lived under that water, she would have. She didn't want to leave the bathroom and face Peter when he came back from dinner. She could just imagine the things he'd say: _Typical girl, getting emotional over nothing…Are you done crying?... What did I do to deserve living with a _girl_?_

Ollie grabbed a towel and wrapped her hair in it, and patted herself dry. She was feeling extremely bitter towards everyone. By the time she was dressed and back in the bedroom, she'd planned every response to what Peter might say to her.

"No more Mr. Nice Guy" She thought. Her cheeks burnt with fury as she thought of all the guys from the soccer team doubled over with laughter as she stood up, covered head to toe in flour. She closed her eyes and tried pushing that memory away, and started pacing the room.

But Peter didn't come back when she'd expected. The hours ticked away, and still he didn't come back. Ollie gave up pacing and sat on the couch. The less angry she got, the more aware she was of how hungry she'd become. She hadn't eaten since breakfast at her dad's, and breakfast was a gross exaggeration, unless a piece of toast and one sausage link counted. She tried ignoring the pain in her stomach as it growled in complaint.

"Shut up, will you?" she groaned. "I don't have food."

Ollie turned on the TV in hopes to distract herself from her surmounting hunger, but it did little to help.

It was dark for hours by the time that Peter came back. He flicked the lights on and spotted Ollie on the couch, staring vacuously at the TV. He didn't say anything as he closed the door behind him. He walked to the sink in the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

Ollie's heart began beating fast. Wasn't he going to start making fun of her, or should she try to beat him to it? Before she could choose what to say first, Peter was at the couch, with a cup of water and plate of food in his hands.

"Here," he said, setting the plate in her lap.

Ollie looked at the food nonplus, and then back at Peter. "What's this?"

"Food," he laughed. He took a seat in the red chair and kicked his feet up. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned."

"Why did you get me this?"

"How else are you going to eat? I didn't know what you like, so I got a bit of everything."

Ollie looked down, and took her first real look at what was on the plate. It was piled with food she'd never seen before, mashed potatoes, a chicken leg, corn, some wiggly purple goo that may be jelly, sausage links, fat potato wedges, and a little slice of chocolate cake wedged between fried fish and crackers. Ollie didn't know where to start. She grabbed the fork and started shoveling in the mashed potatoes.

Peter changed the TV to a soccer game, and pulled a large piece of cake wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. Ollie tried everything on her plate. The purple goo did turn out to be jelly, which she realized was meant for the Yorkshire pudding hiding under the chicken leg. Ollie ate until the plate was clean. She felt past the point of bursting she was so full.

She set the plate down and leaned back against the couch with a groan. Peter looked over and laughed.

"You leaving that for later?" he said, pointing to her shirt.

Ollie looked down and saw a biscuit worth of crumbs on her shirt. She quickly brushed them off. "Is that what you're doing?" She said with a grin.

Peter raised an eyebrow quizzically. Ollie pointed to his cheek, where a large gob of chocolate icing was. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and grinned.

"Yes, I was."

"Thanks for bringing that food." Ollie said, keeping her eyes on the TV. "You didn't need to do that."

"It's no problem."

They let the sound of the soccer game dominate any noise. Ollie didn't have the heart to say all the things she'd thought in the bathroom. She felt terrible about how she acted, and even worse when she thought of how delicious that Yorkshire pudding was. Peter didn't offer to start any conversation. He sat, staring fixedly at the TV almost hypnotically. No swearing under his breath or shaking his head when his team missed a goal. He just sat there until the game was over.

"Time for bed. Here," he handed her the remote as he walked to his bed. Ollie shook herself and looked down at her watch. It was midnight already.

"Oh, I don't want to watch anything." Ollie mumbled, turning off the TV. She followed suit and crawled into her bed, not bothering to change into her pajamas.

Peter got under his comforter and rolled on his side. Ollie stared at the ceiling, and listened to the forced silence. Peter was barely breathing. She could hear the muffled laughter of two voices from the room next to theirs. Out in the hallway the soft sound of creaking floorboards passed their door, along with a yellow light that seeped under the cracks. The voices next door immediately hushed.

"That's one of the professors." Peter whispered. "They patrol the corridors at night, and will come into the dorms if they think we're still awake."

The creak of footsteps faded away, taking the glow of light with it. Ollie rolled over to see Peter watching the door.

"What happens if you're caught?"

"Don't get caught." He rolled onto his other side, and pulled the covers over his head.

Ollie rolled back over to watch the door, and tried to listen for the footsteps but they didn't come back. The boys in the other room must have followed Peter's suit, because she couldn't hear them either.

**. . .**

The following morning Ollie woke to a blaze of light and noise. She pushed herself out of bed, and stumbled over to the window to see a large number of boys were running around the school grounds.

"What the heck is going on down there? Peter, do you …"

She turned to his bed to see it was empty. Ollie looked at her watch and frowned. It was already eleven. She looked back out the window, and watched the group of boys yell at something in the center. They'd formed a tight circle and pointing at two boys rolling in the grass. One was exceptional tall, and had the second in a choke hold. The onlookers cheered.

"Boys," Ollie sighed, shaking her head.

She changed and headed downstairs with her schedule in her pocket and a vague idea of where she was going. She reached the first floor and looked around as she stepped into the Entrance. It was quiet as usual.

"Where was the kitchen?" she thought.

She cursed herself for not going down to eat last night. How was she going to find food when she barely knew the building? If only there was a map somewhere, with a "You Are Here" dot.

Ollie turned down a hallway next to the large staircase and hoped it would take her somewhere helpful. It was dim and seemed to stretch the entire length of the school. There was nothing but portraits and doors on either side. Ollie kept walking, trying to ignore the growling in her stomach. She peaked her head into a door that was ajar, to find a dark classroom. She tried another door a few stretches down, and that was filled with chairs stacked on top of each other. There were rooms filled with desks, and furniture, but no food.

The further she walked the lighter the hallway became. Eventually Ollie walked into a large room with tall ceilings that had ornate wooden beams stretching across them. Long arched windows bordered the room so warm light flooded in from the grounds. Circular tables were placed all around the room. Ollie's eyes traveled around until she noticed what was at the center of everything: a kitchen! She'd found the Dining Hall. Marble tops created a long rectangle where ovens, and stoves sat in the middle, with gleaming white dishes stacked by huge pans. Ollie rushed over, and desperately searched for food.

"You're up late."

A round man came strolling over from behind a refrigerator. He was wiping his hands of a dirty apron wrapped around his wide stomach. His face was so cragged with wrinkles, it was a wonder how he saw from all the drooping skin that hung by his eyes.

"I slept in."

"I see that. You missed breakfast; dinner will be at one."

"What about lunch?"

The man's eyes widened, making his weathered skin double in creases. "You being smart with me?"

"No, sir, Mr…" Ollie looked for a name tag, but the only thing she could see was clothes caked in crusty food.

"Paul."

"Mr. Paul,"

Mr. Paul eyed Ollie suspiciously. "I'll give you slack today. But for the future, breakfast is at eight."

"Thank you,"

Mr. Paul shook his head and pulled a loaf of bread from a cooling rack and cut a few slices from it and put them in a toaster. When the toast popped up a minute later he threw them into a napkin with some cheese and handed them to Ollie.

"Dinner is at one."

Ollie took the napkin and nodded. "'Dinner is at one'. Thanks," Ollie hurried towards a side door that led to the grounds, feeling uncomfortable with Mr. Paul's eyes following her as she left.

A cool breeze hit her the moment she stepped outside. It was surprising cool for mid-August. She unfolded her napkin and munched on the toast as she started wandering around. Most of the grounds were sweeping, manicured lawns with well sculptured shrubs. She stopped to inspect a lone marble fountain, with a sculpture of a crocodile lying in a pool, as a jet of water poured from its jaws. She leaned closer, and noticed the croc's eyes had been painted bright red, but were faded as if someone had tried scratching off the color.

"Watch out! He's behind you!"

Ollie jumped and looked around. No one was near her. There was a loud thud and a roar of laughter.

"You're out!"

She drifted towards the commotion that seemed to be coming from behind a large hill. Ollie's eyes widened as she reached the top and saw the scene unfolding below her. About 50 boys were standing in the valley of the hill, all blind-folded and wandering around with their arms outstretched. One of them was carrying a large purple bat. He kept his arms locked, so he would be ready to swing at any moment.

"Hi, Fernsby," said Eliot as Ollie reached the few spectators.

"What's all this?" Ollie said, gesturing towards one of the boys who looked like he was no more than fourteen wandering around blindfolded.

"We're playing Marco-Polo."

"Marco-Polo? Isn't that supposed to be played in a pool?"

"Sure. But we don't have one, do we? So we've had to improvise."

"And why is everyone wearing blindfolds?"

"It'd be too easy if everyone could see."

"Okay. And the bat's part of it because...?"

Eliot opened his mouth, but seemed to be at a loss, so shrugged. "I never really thought about why."

"So this is nothing like Marco-Polo."

"The bat makes it more fun!" yelled Peter, who was the one carrying it.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Ollie called back. "Someone could get hurt."

"No worries, Fernsby." Said Eliot. "They're mostly freshman. It's part of their initiation to be whacked with a bat a few times."

Ollie shook her head in disgust. "You guys have more initiation rituals than a fraternity."

"Thank you."

"Marco!" Peter yelled.

"Polo!"

Peter's head snapped towards the closest voice and went charging towards them. He swung the bat and whacked a boy with curly brown hair. He immediately pulled his blindfold off, and rubbed his head.

"You're out, mate!" Eliot laughed.

The boy slumped off the field. Peter went back to holding the bat in pre-swing, walking slowly toward a boy who had just sneezed.

"I see you got all the flour off you."

"Thanks for noticing." Ollie said. "Why aren't you part of this ridiculousness?"

"I'm out." Eliot said with a grin, pointing to a large red bump on his forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"No worries, the bat's plastic. Nothing a man like me can't handle."

"I bet."

Peter swung the bat and cracked it on Quinn's back. It made a hollow bonk, and bounced off.

"You're outta here!" Peter yelled.

Quinn ripped off his blindfold and threw it on the ground. He joined them on the side lines, and shook his head.

"Hi, Fernsby." He said. "What do you have there?" He was staring at her napkin with wide eyes.

"Cheese and toast." Ollie said, handing him a slice.

"Cheers." He shoved the toast in his mouth and turned back to the field. Peter was swinging the bat around madly as a little boy ran in circles trying to avoid him. Peter changed direction and smacked the boy in the face. He collapsed onto the ground.

"Did I get him, or was that a tree?" Peter called, reaching down with his bat and poking the boy in the chest.

"You got him, mate!" Eliot yelled back. "Get off the field, Ant!"

The boy, Ant, pulled off his blindfold and walked away. He had a large red welt just above his eye. Eliot patted him on the back.

"Well done, Ant. You take a wallop like a champion."

Ollie offered him some cheese, which seemed to cheer him up. Peter had gone back to roaming the field.

"I have a question," said Ollie, as they all watched Peter. "What stops you from going back in the game without a blindfold?"

Eliot gasped. "We respect the sanctity of this game, madam!"

"But wouldn't it be more fun to mess with the guy holding the bat?"

"The audacity!"

"No… no, Eliot she's got a good point." Said Quinn.

Eliot frowned, and bit into his slice of cheese. "Hmm, maybe she does."

The bent their heads together and made a plan. Ollie handed out the last pieces of toast she had to Quinn, and they crept onto the field. Peter was walking slowly towards Jasper, who was trying to hide behind a thin tree. Quinn tiptoed behind Peter.

"Marco!" Peter yelled.

"Polo!" Quinn yelled with the remaining players.

He was standing directly behind Peter now, chewing loudly on the toast. Peter spun around and swung, but Quinn easily dodged and the bat whizzed through the air. Quinn kept crunching on the toast, always within ear shot of Peter, but arm's length away.

"Marco!" Peter yelled again.

"Polo!" Quinn yelled.

He swung again, and just barely missing Quinn's head, who rolled to the ground to avoid the bat. Ollie and Eliot were busy ushering the rest of the players off the field. Jasper pulled off his blindfold and looked down at Ollie as she pushed him off the field.

"What are you doing, Ollie?"

"Shh!" she said with a grin.

It didn't take long before the only people left on the field were Quinn and Peter. Peter was swinging the bat madly around, trying desperately to make contact with something, but Quinn was too quick, and, with the advantage of seeing Peter, dodged every swing.

"What the hell!" Peter finally yelled, ripping off his blindfold and looking around furiously.

He saw Quinn beaming at him, still chewing on the toast then slowly around the field, and took in everyone watching him from the side lines. The boys erupted in laughter and waved their blindfolds in the air.

"Real nice," Peter said.

"You looked like an idiot out there!" laughed Ant. "Swinging the bat, but no one was playing!"

Peter hawked the bat at Ant, which smacked him on the head and bounced away.

"Don't be cross with me." Ant snapped. "It was the girl's idea."

"Was it, now?" Peter turned to Ollie with a smirk growing, and an evil glint in his eyes.

Ollie's heart started hammering as he began walking towards her. She tried taking a step back but the guys pushed her forward.

"You think you're funny?" he said. "You're a real jokester, aren't you?"

"It _was_ kind of funny."

"Hilarious." He bent down and picked up the purple bat, and shoved it into Quinn's hands. "Your turn, mate."

Quinn looked at the bat with wide eyes and held it over his head. "People will fear me!"

Peter handed Ollie his blindfold and pushed her into the field.

"Hey! What are you doing, I don't want to play."

"Tough luck." Said Peter. He took the blindfold and tied it around Ollie's eyes, double knotting it so it was secured tightly. Ollie reached up to pull it off but he slapped her hand away. "I just want you to know, Quinn's merciless."

"What does that mean?" Ollie could hear the other boys start walking out to the field and band together in a large group around her.

"Alright, Quinn?" called Peter.

"Ready!"

"Go!"

Ollie listened to silence as everyone waited to hear Quinn give the first call. Somewhere to her left, guys started yelling in pain. Peter was yelling from the side lines. "Jonathan out! Liam out! Henry out!"

Ollie tried walking forward but was immediately blocked by standing bodies. The shouts and dull thwacks of the bat seemed to be getting closer.

"Sam out! Ant out!"

Ollie turned her head, waiting to hear Quinn's shout of "Marco", but all she heard was the groans of the guys who'd been hit. She pushed against the guys near her to get them to start walking.

"Get out of the way!" hissed Ollie, poking one in the ribs.

"Ouch! Watch it!"

Ollie had had enough. She bent down and started crawling through the sea of legs until she wriggled out of the group. She jumped to her feet and stretched her arms out as she began walking. Quinn still hadn't said anything.

"James out! Charlie out!"

Ollie walked slowly away from the group of guys, wondering how Quinn was getting so many guys out without listening for their calls of "Polo".

"How many do I have left?" yelled Quinn.

"Just two, Owen and Fernsby." Peter called back.

Ollie found a tree and slunk behind it. It wasn't very thick, but it'd give her a little cover if Quinn ran over and swung at her.

"Marco." Quinn sang.

Ollie could hear someone walking nearby.

"Marco."

"Hey, you two, you have to say Polo!" yelled Peter.

"Polo." Ollie half whispered.

The footsteps got closer. She slid down the base of the tree and started crawling away from the footsteps. Her head bumped into a leg and she immediately cringed.

"Ollie?"

"Jasper?"

"Why are you on the ground?" He reached down and pulled her up.

"I'm trying to get away from Quinn."

"Don't bother. He has no technique. He just runs around until he hits something."

"That explains a lot."

"Come out, come out, where ever you are." Sang Quinn.

Jasper grabbed Ollie's hand and started dragging her with him to the other end of the field. They could hear Quinn getting closer, and the occasional swish of air as he swung the bat.

"Marco"

"Polo." Ollie and Jasper whispered.

"Marco." Quinn said, his voice much closer than before.

Jasper squeezed Ollie's hand, and then yelled, "Run for it!"

He let go and bolted to their right. Ollie stumbled and waited for the bat to hit her but it didn't happen.

"Game over!" yelled Peter. "Fernsby wins!"

Ollie yanked the blindfold off and saw Jasper lying on the grass in a ball as Quinn was whacking him with the bat repeatedly. Jasper reached out and grabbed one of Quinn's legs and pulled him to the ground.

"You can't defeat me!" Quinn screamed, bonking Jasper in the head.

"Enough!" laughed Peter, ripping the bat from Quinn's hands. "You're reign is over."

"It never lasts long enough." Quinn said sadly.

Peter walked over to Ollie, who was still standing in the middle of the field, feeling confused and overwhelmed. He handed her the purple bat. "Now it's King Olive's turn."

Ollie took the bat with awe and gripped it with both hands. She looked up to Peter and grinned. "You're going to regret giving me this."


	4. Dirty Mermaid

**A/N: A huge thank you to all who've left such wonderful reviews and messages! Enjoy. **

**.**

They trekked back up to the grounds towards the school, many of the boys nursing welts. Ralph was eyeing Ollie sulkily as he rubbed his head tenderly. She was carrying the purple bat over her shoulder and walking with a small bounce in her step.

"Boys only next time." He muttered to Peter as they walked into the dining hall.

Unlike earlier that morning when the room was empty and quiet, the dining hall was teeming with boys in line for food. The clattering sound of dishes and babble of voices filled the room. Delicious smells were exuding from the kitchen at the center where Ollie could see Mr. Paul and several other cooks pulling trays of food from the ovens and dishing it out to the boys. Ollie shoved the bat into Peter's hands and quickly walked in line. She grabbed a plate and eagerly looked over the counter. Peter and the others lined up behind her.

"That girl eats more than natural." Whispered Ralph to Peter as they watch Ollie start piling her plate with several pies. "Where does she put it?"

Peter shrugged.

"So, where are all the teachers?" asked Ollie as they sat down at a table.

"The professors are around her somewhere." Said Quinn with a mouthful of potatoes. "You would have seen them if you came down to supper last night. They were all there."

Ollie shrugged and started shoveling in a pie. Ralph glanced over to Peter who was trying not to laugh.

"Ollie, did they only feed you bread and water in the states?"

"Of course not. Why?"

"Oh, no reason."

Ollie eyed his suspiciously then went back to the pie. Jasper brought up the upcoming soccer match, and the boys quickly became absorbed in sports. Ollie was fine with this. She quickly finished the meat pie and potatoes (she left the pie that tasted like fish) and was debating to go back for the pudding when she noticed the ginger boy sitting alone a few tables away. He had been staring at her with wide eyes but quickly looked down at his plate when she spotted him. He hadn't touched his food but stared at it with his hands clenched around a fork.

"Ollie?"

"Yeah?" She looked back to the table, where all five guys were watching her with grins.

"Welcome back to Earth. Feel like sharing your adventures?" said Peter.

"Har, har."

"We were just talking about how JRA could use a new mascot, and thought you would look good in a little skirt and –"

"Oh no! There's Gastrell." Hissed Quinn, slouching in his chair and pointing to someone behind Ollie. All the other guys spotted what Quinn saw, and immediately became preoccupied with their food.

"What?" Ollie turned around her chair but Ralph grabbed her arm and shook her head. "What are you afraid of?" Ollie asked, a grin creeping across her face.

"Nothing," he snapped.

"That's not what it looks like." Ollie turned back around and looked at the neighboring tables. It was nothing but a sea of boys eating. She faced the group and shook her head. "You guys are ridiculous."

But they weren't watching her anymore. Their eyes were locked on something behind her.

"Would you look at this, the rumors are true! There's a girl in JRA now."

The voice behind Ollie made a disappointed noise. She swiveled around in her chair and tilted her head up as she took in the tall figure of the guy standing behind her. He was surprisingly handsome, with deep brown eyes and short chestnut hair, and the profile of a Greek statue, but the smirk spread across his face seemed to distort his good looks. His clothes had large grass stains on them and bits of dirt and grass were in his hair. He leaned down so he was eye level with Ollie, staring at her like she was some anima he expected to do a trick.

"What do you want?"

"Are you an American, too?" He grinned even wider.

"Leave her alone, Gastrell." Said Peter.

The intruder stretched out his hand and winked. "I'm Graham."

Ollie shook his hand reluctantly. "Ollie."

"It's my pleasure." He put her hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping his eyes locked on her. Ollie felt her face suddenly become hot.

"Budge up, Cotton." He said, as he grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and squeezed it between Ollie and Ralph.

"You can't sit here!" snapped Ralph.

"I already am."

Quinn picked up a pudding cup and looked like he was going to throw it at Graham but Peter quickly pushed him down and knocked the pudding out of his hand. Graham ignored them and turned to face Ollie, whose face was progressively getting redder.

"So Ollie, is that your nickname or is it just Ollie?"

"It's a nickname."

"And your full name is…?"

"I don't really want to tell you." Ollie looked at her lap. Graham was watching her as if he was hanging on her every word.

"Can I guess? Is it Olivia?"

"Nope."

"Olivette?"

"No."

"What about Ophelia?"

"You're not going to get it, stupid." Said Ralph.

"You have a problem, Cotton?" snapped Graham, his smile instantly changing into a scowl.

"It's Oliver." Ollie quickly said.

Graham pulled his eyes away from Ralph and put on a smile. "Oliver? That's different. I like Ollie better."

"I think Oliver's a great name." Peter muttered.

"It's okay, I guess." Ollie said, glancing at Peter and giving him a weak smile. He just frowned.

"So how'd you end up with these idiots?" Graham nodded his head towards the other guys, who were all staring daggers at him. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, since you're new and a girl, but you'll start smelling like rejects soon if you don't find new mates."

"That's it!" yelled Eliot, jumping to his feet. "You need to leave!"

"Sit down, Reed."

"No, get out of here!"

"You going to make me, shorty?" Graham stood up so he towered over Eliot who only came to his shoulders.

"Knock it off!" Ollie said, standing up too.

She barely came to Graham's chest, but she raised her arms to block him hoping that would be enough. Graham stared at Eliot who looked like he was going to jump across the table and strangle him. But Graham placed a hand on Ollie's shoulder and leaned down so his mouth was at her ear.

"I'll see you later."

With that he left to join a group of muscular guys several tables away that had been watching interestedly. The instant he disappeared there was a collective sigh. Ollie fell into her seat and took a deep breath.

"What a git." Said Jasper.

Eliot nodded in agreement. "I hate that guy."

"He didn't seem that bad." Ollie said. Every guy's eyes snapped to her with disgust. "What? He didn't."

"Unbelievable, Fernsby." Ralph said, shaking his head. "You are just something else, you know that?"

"What's your beef with him? I mean, really, he seems okay."

"That fat head has been a pain in our side since we started J. Rogers." Said Peter.

"But _why_?"

"He's captain of the rugby team."

"And? I thought you liked rugby."

Peter shook his head, as if Graham playing rugby wasn't enough to explain why they all hated him.

"You're missing the point, Fernsby." Ralph explained. "Gastrell thinks he's better _because_ he plays rugby."

"And just because they've won District Champion three years in a row, suddenly they're royalty."

"So let me get this right," said Ollie. "You don't like him because he plays rugby at _your_ school, and wins championships for _your_ school."

"He's a prick, Fernsby!"

"But I still don't see why you don't like him. I mean, Quinn, you were going to hawk pudding at him."

"A waste of pudding really." Mumbled Jasper.

Peter stood up, and patted Ollie on her head. "Someday, Fernsby, you'll understand. Someday."

"Really? You're going to do that?"

Peter got up and headed toward the backdoor leading to the grounds. The others gave Ollie a disappointed look and followed Peter. Ollie threw her hands up in disbelief. She didn't follow them to where ever they were going. She was done with Peter, that clique, and their dumb drama for the day. Instead she made her way back down the long hallway towards the main staircase. She pulled out the crumpled schedule from her pocket, tried flattening it down before reading:

_Monday/ Wednesday/ Friday_

_English Literature, RM 205  
_

_Calculus, RM 223  
_

_Chemistry RM 107  
_

_Physical Education, Football Field_

_Tuesday/ Thursday_

_History, RM 331_

_French, RM 219_

_Hunting, RM 500_

That did little to help her understand where the classes were in proximity to the building. For all she knew, they could be on the roof. She stuffed the schedule back in her pocket and decided she'd take the hallway to the left. It looked identical to the one she'd just come from, expect there were long paintings of landscapes on these walls. Ollie didn't bother to look at these. The first painting looked almost identical to the rest she passed: just one continuous jungle with thorny vines dangling from the canopy and glowing eyes in the dark shadows of bushes.

"Every time I think this school can't get more macabre…" she mumbled to herself.

Ollie slowly started passing doors with brass numbers on them. _115, 114, 113…_ and finally, _107_, in between a tall painting of the jungle with little kids hiding in a tree, and a bust of a stern old man who had a large scar that ran across his cheek and into his hair line. Ollie pulled out her schedule and jot down a little note next to _Chemistry_, "West Wing - first floor - by Scar-Man".

She tucked the schedule back in her pocket and kept walking. The rooms stopped at 101 and the only thing at the end of the hallway was a stairway that led to the upper floors. Ollie climbed to the next floor, where the rooms started at 201 and went up. This hallway was flooded with light from all the tall windows tat lined the outer wall. Occasionally, there would be one with stained glass. She stopped to stare at one of a man in a red cape and a large black hat when she heard voices approaching. Ollie quickly crept behind a large statue of a hound, and pressed her back against the wall. Two men walked passed talking animatedly in Scottish accents. Both were dressed in black pants, a blue and white striped shirt and a blood red tie. Neither noticed Ollie as they walked down the hall and disappeared in a classroom. Once she was sure they weren't coming back our Ollie slowly creepy around the statue.

"What were you doing back there?" The ginger boy was standing nearby, watching Ollie with an anxious expression.

"I don't know." Ollie mumbled.

"Were you hiding?"

Ollie looked up to see a small smile spreading across his face. She smiled too, and shrugged. "Maybe."

"It's okay, I didn't like the professors my first year either. I still really don't like them."

Ollie laughed. "I'm Ollie."

"Hamish."

"So what are you doing up here?"

"I was walking to my dormitory."

"There are dorms on this side?"

"Oh… well, yes. A few…" Hamish quickly looked down and started muttering to himself.

"Okay," _Note to self, don't mention that again. _"So, have you been here a while?"

"Yes. This is my third year."

"Then you must know this school really well."

Hamish looked up in surprise and nodded.

"Could you maybe help me find my classes? I'm completely lost."

This seemed to cheer Hamish up immensely. He took Ollie's schedule and went through her classes. "I know where all of these are. The closest one is your English class. This way,"

He started walking away. Ollie quickly followed. Hamish was right, he knew the school extremely well. He showed her every classroom she needed to know, and the quickest routes to get there. He said he'd taken a class on the history of Jolly Rogers and learned all the uninteresting facts about the school like: what the Headmaster of 1818 did to prevent the school from closing from lack of funding, or why the school mascot was a ship. He talked on and on about the paintings on the walls, and different alumni who had become Prime Minister. After they'd walked through every wing in all four floors, Ollie was having a hard time paying attention to what Hamish was saying. All she could think about was her bed. It wasn't until they'd reached the corridor where Ollie's dorm was that he stopped talking.

"Out of facts already?" Ollie said.

"I guess I am," he said, eyes dropping to the floor. "Well, I hope that helped."

He spun around and quickly walked in the other direction. Ollie watched him hurry down a flight of stairs and shook her head. What the heck just happened?

"There you are!"

Ollie turned around to see Graham and several other boys that had ben at his table. Graham flung an arm around Ollie and grinned. "How's our American pie doing?"

"Dandy."

"My mates and I are going into town to grab some beers. You can come, too."

"Oh, gee, that sounds like a great time," Ollie said, pushing Graham's arm off her. "But I think I'm going to call it a day."

"It's only four in the afternoon."

"Oh, well, you know," she forced a yawn. "The time difference… and things. Well, see you later."

"See you,"

She hurried to her room, hoping thy believed her and left. When she reached her room she risked a glance back and saw with relief they were gone. _Beers,_ she thought in disbelief. _How on earth were they going to get those legally? And for that matter, how could they get off campus without getting caught?_ Ollie shook her head and went into her room.

"FERNSBY!"

"What the hell!" Ollie gasped.

The room was filled with guys. Peter bounded over the couch and shoved something in her hand as he dragged her away from the door.

"So glad you could make it!"

"Who are all these people?"

"The football team" he yelled, and the guys started hooting loudly. "Drink up, Olive, you've a lot of catching up to do!"

Ollie looked down at what was in her hands and gasped. "Beer? Are you serious?"

Peter (who was very pink in the face) just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and laughed. "Don't be a Nancy boy."

"You're no better than Graham, you know that?"

"Thank you. Now come here, you need to meet the rest of the team."

Peter dragged her around the cramped room, introducing her to the rest of the guys on the team. She smiled and tried to remember names, but was doing a poor job of it.

"Alright, Ollie?" Jasper asked when Peter finally let her go to get another drink. She just shook her head with wide eyes.

"Sure."

Eliot walked over and stood next to Jasper. The two couldn't be more opposite. Eliot, who was pale as a ghost and barely taller than Ollie, handed Jasper a beer, who was taller than anyone else in the room.

"Alright, Ollie?" asked Eliot, raising his beer. "We thought you weren't going to join the fun."

"No one bothered telling me this was happening."

"Must have slipped our minds."

"How'd you get all this?" asked Ollie, gesturing to the boxes of beers around the room.

"A gentlemen never asks, a lady never tells." Ralph said, joining the group. Ollie eyes his dark hair that was ticking up in every direction.

"What's up with your hair?"

Ralph looked down at her with a wide grin and shrugged loftily. "I dunno what you mean."

Peter came bounding over with a new beer in his hand, his russet hair tousled in the same way as Ralph's. Ollie opened her mouth to ask, but Jasper nudged her and leaned down.

"That's their pissed hair." He whispered.

"Their what?"  
"Just watch."

"I can't wait to get this season going!" Ralph practically yelled. "We're going to win districts this year!"

"You better bloody believe it!" Peter yelled back.

"The Redskins don't know what's coming! We're going to sweep them."

"5-0!"

Ralph slugged Peter in the arm. Peter grabbed Ralph around the neck and pulled him down to give him a noogie. Ralph tried pushing himself away, but when he realized he couldn't get out of Peter's grip, seized Peter around the waist and tackled him to the floor. They started rolling on the floor, knocking into furniture and making others jump out of their way. Jasper looked over to Ollie, whose eyes were wide as she watched what was happening. Eventually, Peter and Ralph stopped, and got back to their feet, their hair even messier than it was before. Both laughed and walked away to grab another drink. Ollie slowly turned to Jasper who was silently laughing.

"Well okay then." Ollie said.

"Pissed, the both of them."

"Why do you call them 'pissed'? They don't seem mad."

Jasper threw his head back and laughed. "Pissed means drunk. What do you call it in America?... Sloppy?"

"Shit faced." Ollie said with a grin. "I gotcha. Oh! What do you call the meal in the middle of the day?"

Jasper cocked an eyebrow quizzically. "You mean dinner?"

"Dinner? That's what you call it?" Ollie started laughing. "It all makes sense now."

"Why do you ask?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"Fernsby!" Eliot gasped. "You're not drinking your beer!"

"Yeah, I don't drink alcohol."

"You don't drink beer?"

Every guy suddenly turned around and stared at Ollie with a disgusted look. Ralph started making a "tsk, tsk" noise. Several of the guys hung their heads sadly. Peter started rummaging through bottles in the back. Ollie could feel her face turning red as everyone stared. Peter came trotting over with a glass of pink, bubbly liquid.

"Try this." He said, taking the beer from her and handing her the new drink.

"What is it?"

"The key to making you like drinking."

"But what's in it?"

"A bunch of things, just try it!"

"C'mon Fernsby!" yelled a guy.

Ollie lifted the drink up to her lips and held her breath. _Please let there be no roofies in this._ She tilted the glass back and took a sip. It fizzled in her mouth like soda, but tasted wonderfully like fruit.

"Well?"

"It's good."

They erupted in cheers. Ralph gave her two thumbs up, before going back to his drinking game in the corner. Ollie risked another sip and was delighted it tasted even better. Peter was watching her with a large smile.

"Our little Ollie is growing up." He said, pretending to hold back tears. Jasper patted him on the back sympathetically.

"What _is_ in this, Peter?"

Peter straightened up and started ticking off with his fingers. "Blueberry vodka, peach schnapps, strawberry vodka, whipped cream vodka, and a splash of watermelon Fresca."

Ollie stared down at the drink, holding it a little farther away from her like it might explode at any moment. "All that's in here?"

Jasper stared laughing. Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed the drink from Ollie, took a large gulp and handed it back to her.

"See? Not poisonous."

Ollie laughed, but had to admit that did make her feel a lot better. She took another sip. Someone handed Peter another drink. He happily tilted it back and drained the whole bottle.

"To a new year!"

"Here, here!" the boys raised their glasses.

Ollie lifted her glass up and felt the ice clatter. She looked down in surprise to the entire drink was gone.

"Done already?" Peter said gleefully, as he took the empty glass and handed her a full one.

"I guess…"

"That's the danger of the Dirty Mermaid. They're addicting."

"The what?" Ollie giggled. She took a long sip of the pink drink.

"It's what we named it," said Jasper, "after the girls from Lagoon."

"And wha'z tha?" she tried to say as she kept drinking.

"It's the girls school on the other side of town." Said Peter. "But enough about that, how are you feeling?"

"Great!" she said, even though her head was starting to feel a bit wobbly.

Peter reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. Ollie looked at him and blinked. Now there were two of him… no… now there was just one again. Peter was grinning ear to ear.

"Brilliant! You're already pissed."

"Am not!" Ollie raised the glass in her hand and rattled it. "I'm outta drink…"

Peter laughed as he yanked the glass from her. He quickly made another and handed it back. Ollie wasted no time draining that glass too. The more she drank, the more delicious they were getting. She couldn't understand it. There was only one conclusion… black magic.

"She should probably slow down." Jasper said to Peter, putting a hand on Ollie to prevent her from wobbling.

Peter waved him off. "Nonsense. Fernsby's fine, aren't you Olive?"

"Smashing!" she said in a terrible British accent.

"That a girl!"

Jasper didn't seem convinced. Someone had turned on the stereo, drowning out Jasper's arguments. Ollie felt like she was seeing through tunnel vision. She began walking around the room for no particular reason, giggling to herself as she drank more. She found Quinn on their porch, face down and asleep, his usual spikey red hair plastered to his face. She nudged him with her foot, but he didn't move. Peter and Ralph suddenly appeared by her shoulder with evil grins and fat black markers in their hands. Peter handed one to Ollie.

"What am I s'possed to do with this?"

"Rule number one about drinking, Fernsby," said Ralph as he uncapped the marker and crouched over Quinn. "Never fall asleep at a party."

He carefully started drawing glasses around Quinn's eyes. Quinn didn't even stir. Peter knelt down too and drew a skull on his forehead. Ollie looked down at the marker in her hand and giggled. She uncapped it and leaned down to draw a little heart on his cheek. By the time they were done, Quinn looked like a human sketchpad. She and Ralph had played tic-tac-toe on his legs, while Peter drew a shark and a tiger on his arms.

"It's a masterpiece." Ralph said, standing back to appreciate their hard work.

"The best we've ever done." Peter agreed. "Well done on the mustache, Fernsby."

They tilted their head to get a better look at Quinn's face, where a large handlebar mustache was on his upper lip.

"Oye, Peter, we need you for – nice mustache." Eliot had leaned out but spotted Quinn and tilted his head to get a better look. "We need you for quarters."

Peter left with Eliot. Ralph and Ollie stayed on the little porch staring at Quinn as he started snoring. The night was refreshingly cool. The little breeze that hit Ollie woke her up enough to help her get control of the swaying.

"Ready for classes tomorrow?" asked Ralph.

Ollie shrugged. "Not really."

Ralph started poking Quinn in the face with his toe. A large pit started forming in Ollie's stomach. Classes were tomorrow. She'd completely forgotten. Dred about not getting to class on time, or not knowing what the teachers were talking about made her feel sick.

Quinn gave a loud groan and swatted at Ralph's foot. They jumped and silently rushed back into the room before Quinn woke up. Back in the stuffy room, Ollie's head started spinning again. She stumbled over to the couch, and collapsed onto it, letting her head fall in Peter's lap, who was there talking with another guy. He looked down at her with a sly grin.

"Alright, Olive?"

She groaned.

"I think she's gonna be sick." Said the other guy.

Peter gave Ollie a little shake. "Don't you dare be sick on me, Fernsby."

"I'm not." Ollie mumbled.

She closed her eyes but it only made the spinning worse. Someone put a hand on her head and started stroking her hair. The spinning slowed a little.

"Bless her," she heard someone whisper. "Is she asleep?"

"I can't tell."

"Hey! What's wrong with Ollie?"

"Little lamp fell asleep."

Someone started laughing. Ollie exhaled slowly, and finally passed out as the person kept stroking her hair.


	5. First Day of School

**A/N: Happy New Year! A huge thanks to all of you who've left such wonderful messages and reviews. **

**.**

**.**

She could hear her alarm going off but she couldn't motivate herself to move. She flung her hand over the bed and felt it knock the clock off the bedside table and crash onto the floor. Ollie groaned and pushed herself onto her elbows and looked around. She stared at the wooden bedpost in front of her, trying to place where she was.

"Hush," she groaned as she grabbed the clock off the floor and turned off the buzzer.

The clock read _8:30 am. _Ollie sat up, looking around the room covered in cups and beer bottles. Her head was pounding. She turned to her right to see the bed next to hers neatly made and empty.

"Now where is … OH MY GOD! CLASS HAS STARTED!"

Ollie leapt out of bed and rushed over to her dresser. She hastily pulled out clothes and threw them on, nearly tripping as she tried slipping her shoes on while pulling her pants up. She grabbed her backpack and ran out the door.

_How could I over sleep!?_ Ollie thought, as she skid around a corner and took the stairs two steps at a time. She was uncomfortably aware that all the hallways were empty, and classroom doors closed. She flew down the hallway until she reached classroom 205 and quickly straightened her clothes (making sure she hadn't forgotten something like her zipper or a shirt). She held her breath, and slowly opened the door.

The classroom had stadium style desks already filled with boys. Every head snapped towards her as she crept in, and sniggers immediately started. A young man with curly blond hair was standing at the front of the classroom, and stared at Ollie over his large round glasses. He had on black pants and a blue and white striped shirt and red tie like the men she'd seen the day before.

"Can I help you?" he asked, folding his arms.

Ollie glanced around the room uncomfortably as the boys watching continued to laugh. "I'm sorry I'm late. I over slept."

"Name?"

"Ollie Fernsby."

He walked over to his desk and quickly checked a chart before looking back at Ollie skeptically. "Well, Ms. Fernsby, normally I give detention to those whom are late so consider this a warning. The next time you come in late looking like _that_, you won't find me as forgiving."

"Yes, sir."

"You can take the empty seat by Mr. Cotton."

Ollie looked up to the seats, where she saw Ralph waving at her with a large smirk spread across his face. She took the seat next to him, feeling uncomfortably aware that every pair of eyes were on her.

"As I was saying," continued the teacher, turning to the blackboard where the name, '_Professor Dankworth_' was scribbled. "This year we are going to be focusing on the multiplicity of the Classical Romance. Following the various human conditions…"

"Overslept eh?" whispered Ralph.

Ollie glanced over to see Ralph, and Peter (leaning down from the row behind them) grinning ear to ear. "Yes, no thanks to you. Why didn't you wake me up when you got up?"

"I'm not your nanny, you can get yourself up like a big boy." Peter whispered back.

"…pull out your notebooks we'll begin taking notes on the romantic tragedies and comedies of Shakespeare…"

"Plus," Ralph murmured as they pulled out their things to write. "Your face is priceless."

Ollie opened her mouth to tell him off, but caught Dankworth's eye and kept her head down. She'd made enough ruckus today, and the last thing she was in the mood for was detention on her first day. The rest of the class went by quickly. The bell rang before she expected and there was immediately a rush to put papers away.

"No homework tonight!" Dankworth yelled as everyone filed out of the classroom. "And miss Fernsby," he said, catching Ollie by the sleeve. "Just because this is a young men's facility does not mean you need to don a mustache. Leave it next time."

"Wha-?" She shook her head, but Peter quickly prodded her in the back and pushed her out into the hall.

Once they were out of earshot from Professor Dankworth, Peter and Ralph doubled over with laughter. Ollie crossed her arms impatiently.

"Now what?" she snapped.

Ralph pointed at her and tried to talk but couldn't get out the words. He just began laughing harder.

"Look, I don't have time for this. I need to go find my next class."

"Hey guys," called Quinn trotting up to meet them. "Ready for Professor Cor –" He stared at Ollie with huge eyes, before bursting into laughter.

"What is so damn funny!" Ollie snapped.

Peter grabbed Ollie by the shoulders (barely being able to stand because he was still laughing) and turned her to a bright stained glass window. Ollie stared at it for a moment trying to see what they were laughing at, until her reflection came into focus. There she was, multiplied by the glass in every color, each reflection with black marks all over her face and a giant mustache across her lip.

"Oh my God!" She screamed, jumping back from the window and turning on the guys who were doubled with fits of laughter. "Who did this!"

Quinn had crumpled to the ground and rolled around, his face almost as red as his hair. Ollie slugged Ralph in the arm.

"Rules of the party, Fernsby." He said, wiping tears away. "Never fall asleep too early."

"Are you freaking kidding me!?" she yelled, looking back at her reflection. "I look like a carny!"

"It's an improvement if you ask me." Said Ralph.

Ollie hit him in the arm again. "How could you do this?"

"It's not their fault." Said Quinn, pushing himself off the floor. "It's your fault for not waking up early enough to wash it off."

"See Quinn's shining face as an example, Fernsby." Said Ralph, flinging an arm over Quinn. "Lesson learned. You're welcome."

Ollie gave them one last evil look before rushing off to the nearest bathroom. She was so enraged she didn't even care that she walked in on a full room of guys who all scattered from the urinals when she burst in. She turned on the hot water tap and started scrubbing her face free of soccer balls, a pirate ship, dinosaurs, and the huge mustache on her lip.

"Ollie, did you know you have a little something on your lip?" Ralph said, when she took a seat next to him in their next class.

She glared at him as he and Quinn started into another burst of silent giggles. They only stopped when the professor shut the classroom door.

"Welcome gentlemen, to Calculus I." The professor was a dark man with a lot of muscles and large scars on his arms. Ollie thought the blue and white striped shirt looked extremely silly on such a severe man.

"We'll begin with role, and then start todays introductory lecture. Cotton, Ralph?"

"Present!" Ralph said, barely being able to compose himself when the teacher looked at him.

"Cullen, John?"

"Here,"

"Cummings, Stephen?"

"Here,"

"Engle, Luke?"

"Present."

"Fernsby, Oliver?"

"Here!" Ollie squeaked.

The teacher's eyes immediately snapped up to Ollie. She slouched in her chair, only hoping that this wasn't going to have to happen every class.

"Who is this?"

"This is our newest student." Quinn said with a little laugh.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee." The teacher said. "Is this some kind of practical joke?"

"No sir," Ollie said.

"No, what?"

"No… Mr. Sir?"

"It's Professor Corwin." Ralph muttered.

"Er – Professor Corwin." Ollie said quickly.

Corwin eyed Ollie. "That's better." He looked down at his list again, and continued reading off the names.

Ollie sighed and slouched down in her seat more. Ralph nudged her gently, and smiled.

"Thanks," she whispered.

He winked. "Can't have you murdered on the first day."

Ollie rolled her eyes.

"Oh, relax, would you?" he said.

"How can I? Every class is going to be like this, and I couldn't get all the stupid marker off."

They began pulling out the notebooks as Corwin turned to the blackboard and began writing on it.

"Well, on the bright side, you have me in all but one of your classes."

"So what's the bright side?"

Ralph grinned. "She's got jokes!"

.

Ralph was right, whether Ollie wanted to admit it or not. None of the other teachers said anything about her being the only one in the room without a Y chromosome. Besides Corwin's appearance and the rough start, Calculus didn't seem like it'd be too hard. Her next class was Chemistry with Professor Revis, and every one of the guys was in that class with her. She was pretty sure that might be her favorite class when Revis started talking about all the chemicals they'd be working with, and Peter, Ralph and Eliot immediately began plotting how to steal them. Their lunch break was after that, and then Physical Education, where the professor didn't care she was a girl so much it turned into a problem.

"Fernsby! Why aren't you in your gym clothes?"

"There was no where for me to change…"

The guys next to her groaned. She risked a glance at Jasper who was standing at attention and shaking his head. Professor Peffer was by far the beefiest man Ollie had ever seen, and wore the shortest shorts she'd seen on a man. He leaned down so he was so close she could smell his horrible after-shave.

"You think you're better than these fine boys, Fernsby?" he yelled.

"What? No, I just –"

"Then _why_ do you think you need your own private locker room! The one we have not good enough?"

Ollie stared at Peffer completely confused. This had to be some kind of trick question. She wanted to look over to Jasper or any of the other guys for help, but there was no way to without Peffer seeing.

"Because I'm a girl?"

"Oh. You hear that boys? Because she's a _girl_. Well, Fernsby, the next time I see you out here that had better not be your reason for not being properly dressed. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"10 laps! Everyone!"

The group groaned again, before begrudgingly starting to trot around the massive soccer field. The only person who seemed to be enjoying Ollie's torment was Peter.

"What are you laughing at?" Ollie snapped, when he came trotting up to her after 3 laps.

"You, that's what." He wasn't out of breath at all, and kept up easily with Ollie who was already panting. "You should know never to argue with Couch Peffer."

"How am I supposed to know that? I'm _new_!"

"Fair point."

He left her to join the rest of the group running at a much faster pace. Ollie watched them run easily past her, until she realized that Peffer wasn't paying any attention to her at all, and only the guys running. She slowed to a walk, gripping a stitch in her side. Peffer was in the middle of the field now, with a bag of soccer balls. Ollie finally stopped bothering to run. Peter, Ralph, Jasper, Eliot, Quinn, and all the other guys who were at the party last night were in the middle of the field, kicking the balls to each other.

"Don't bother going out there."

Ollie turned to see Hamish standing next to her, pink in the face and looking just as winded as she was.

"Why not?"

"They're all on the football team. Professor Peffer uses this as additional practice for them. I lucked out last year and got this class with them. As long as you stay out of the way you won't have to do laps."

Ollie watched the team start drills from one side of the field to the other. Hamish was right; Peffer was paying absolutely no attention to them.

"So what are we supposed to do for an hour and a half?"

"I usually find a shady spot in the stands, and read a book."

"That doesn't sound that bad, actually."

They climbed up to the first row of the stadium, and laid out of the metal benches. Hamish pulled a book out from under his shirt and began reading. Ollie watched the guys on the field run around. She had no complaints that Peffer issued "Shirts and Skins" rules. Her eyes followed Peter as he sprinted up and down the field, his shirtless body beginning to glisten with sweat. He signaled to Ralph before passed the ball to him, curving it around a guy with a shirt on. Ralph reeled his leg back and kicked hard, sending the ball flying to the other end of the field where Jasper was standing at the goal post. He was so tall he barely needed to jump to catch it.

"Good catch, Owen!" yelled Peffer.

Jasper threw the ball back on to the field. And so it continued. Back, forth, back, forth, Jasper catching the ball, and back and forth until all Ollie could see was green and a blur of people moving around. Her mind started to wander to the dining hall and what Mr. Paul would be making for dinner.

Peffer blew a whistle to signal the end of the period. Hamish and Ollie hurried back onto the field just as Peffer was finishing up his pep talk to the team.

"That was a good warm up, boys. I'm expecting this to be a great year, so don't let me down. Go wash up, and I'll see you for practice."

"Good hustle," Ollie said with a grin, trotting next to Peter who was dripping in sweat.

"I see you worked up a real sweat."

"I think you did enough for the both of us."

"I thought you might say that," Peter said. "And you're lucky I can share."

Before she realized what he was saying, it was too late. Peter pulled her into a tight hug and started rubbing his sweaty face all over hers.

"Peter! Let me go!"

"Love the sweat, Fernsby! Love it!"

"This is so disgusting!"

Peter finally dropped her back on her feet, leaving her rigid and sticky with his sweat. He picked up his shirt and walked into the locker room without another word. Ollie stood there, arms stretched out, not wanting to touch anything. She could smell his disgusting B.O. all over her.

"What's wrong, Fernsby?" asked Ralph as he walked by.

"I'm covered in Peter's sweat."

"Here, wipe yourself off with this." He threw his sweaty shirt at Ollie who quickly batted it away.

"Bleck!"

"Don't be such a girl. You coming in?" He nodded his head towards the locker room.

Ollie shook her head and laughed. "No way!"

"Where are you going?" he called after her as she started walking up the field.

"Back to my room to change."

"Can't handle all our manliness?"

"Trust me, that's not an issue. I just can't handle your stench."

Ralph let out a short bark of laughter. "Fine, go! You'll come in one of these days!" He waved his shirt at her retreating back before entering the locker room.


End file.
